


Tectonic

by llaras



Series: Short Bean/Viggo Ficlets [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llaras/pseuds/llaras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bean pov. He ponders all that is Viggo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tectonic

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://aw-lemongirl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aw-lemongirl.livejournal.com/)**aw_lemongirl** requested Viggo/Bean for her fic. And here it is. :-) This is Bean pov. Hope you like it, sweetie. I had fun with it.

 

 

Sometimes Sean wonders if the others felt as he did. Were they drawn to Viggo as strongly? Not as a moth to a flame, no; Viggo didn't burn so bright or fierce. No beacon shone out from those dark, curious eyes. But there was a light, no doubt. It was steady and true, a bare bulb that lit a far corner of the room, and if you dared you could certainly make use of it, walk your hands in front of the easy glow; all your dreams and fears shadow puppets brought to life under that incandescent gaze.

Sean anticipated the tall tales and the jokes, the changes in himself. He knew what could happen when a diverse group of creative people were brought together with one purpose in mind. They crashed upon each other, rejoiced in similarities, and sought out the uncommon things in order to learn what each person brought to the table.

But Sean was drawn to Viggo in ways that the others did not inspire.

He could feel it in his feet, the itch to cross the room, the desire to stride over and impose himself in Viggo's space. Sean's lungs pushed out stale air in his company and greedily breathed in whatever Viggo exhaled. His fingers reached out towards Viggo's shoulder, his arm, his hand; longing to feel the pulse of him intimately, to touch the skin of his palm, learn the hows of every callous and line.

Sean knew he was welcome. Every gift Viggo gave was with an open heart: blue corn tamales, a jagged spur of obsidian, stories about his son as a baby, quiet laughter, and always the space to breathe, to explore, to throw out a dozen unrelated things and never ask what the hell you were talking about. The what wasn't important.

And on one quiet night, when talk of the day past had ceased and they found themselves in a stretch of comfortable silence, Viggo gave Sean something new: one soft, lingering and uncomplicated wet kiss. He took it as he took all the other gifts, with gratitude and wonder.


End file.
